Here is the verbatim, unedited, version of this lecture,
carefully checked against a recently made archival copy of the original
recording, a result of the work done at the SFZC by
Bill Redican and others for the Shunryu Suzuki Lecture Archives Project or
whatever it's called - under the sage leadership of Dean of Buddhist
Studies, Michael Wenger.

There are two
versions of this lecture - the verbatim and a minimally edited version. - DC

Footnotes may only appear in the edited versions. I just discovered
that these formatted notes do not show when I download the files from MS
Word to Front Page. They will be included in these light edited versions
because they're inserted as text within the body of the lecture and not as
formatted footnotes at the end. - DC

Shunryū Suzuki-rōshi
Sunday, August 15, 1971
Zen Mountain Center

When—when wind stops, flowers fall.

When a bird sings, mountain become more calm.

That is a kind of Zen poem. My translation is not so good. [He recites
the poem in Japanese, saying each line twice.]

Kaze yande hana mae otsu.

Kaze [Tori] naitei yama sarani yūnari.

Kaze yande: When wind stops, but still flower falls. No—there is no
wind. If there is no wind, flower should stay, but flower—after, you know,
there is no wind, still flower falls. If a bird sings, it is not calm. But
if you hear a bird sing in the remoted mountain, you feel the calmness of
the mountain more. Kaze—Tori naitei yama sarani yūnari.

This is again—this poem again refers to the feeling of "there is" and
"there is not." There is, and sometimes there is not. And there is not,
sometimes there is [laughs]. When a flower falls, why flower falls is
because there is wind. But when there is no wind, flowers still fall. And
when you see a flower fall, you feel the wind, more than wind is up [?].
When a bird sings, you feel the calmness of the mountain more than
you—more than when you did not hear any sound. That is true. Isn't—isn't
that true?

That is real feeling of "there is" and "there is not." That is actual
feeling. But usually we are involved in the idea of "there is" or "there
is not." "There is not" means there is no wind. "There is not" means there
is no wind. "There is no sound" means, you know, you don't hear
anything—that is, there is no sound. But actually, when you hear sound you
do not feel of actual feeling of no sound. It is paradoxical, you may say,
but that is much more true than your, you know, usual understanding of
"there is" or "there is not." Much more true. Kaze yande hana mae otsu.
Kaze [Tori] naitei yama sarani yūnari. You cannot, you know—this is—you
cannot say this is just poem. This is actual reality.

When you, you know, have various things you eat, you become more hungry
[laughs]. That is also true. "There is," for us, there is not. "There is
not," for us, actually means there is. When there—there is not much food,
whatever you eat you will be satisfied with what you eat. Actually, you
know, you feel satisfaction of the things you have, when there is not so
much. "There is not" is for us "there is," and "there is" for us "there is
not much" [laughs] often.

That is very true for us. When that is very true for us, our thinking
mind goes [in] another direction. That is why our practice is always
confused [laughs]. On one hand, you know, your—your feeling is very
realistic and actual; on the other hand, your feeling is just logical. And
it is ignoring actual feeling you have in our everyday life. No one knows
which it is true. Both is true. There is something we should think about,
right here.

Ummon one day asked our students: "I don't ask about—I don't ask about
fifteen days before. But how about fifteen days ahead?" That was his
question. I don't ask you what has happened, you know, what has happened,
actually, fifteen days before, or what has been—what has happened
for fifteen days, but I am asking you what will happen from now? That was
Ummon's question. No one could answer for that—for that question.

So Ummon said: "Every day is good day" [laughs]. That was his answer.
Every day is a good day. Fifteen days, you know, it has been good days—we
have had good days for fifteen days, and we will have good days from now
on. Every day is good day. That was Ummon's answer.

And that—what he means is—"Every day good day" means every
day—actual—his life of every day include "is not"—include both "there is"
and "there is not." And he is satisfied with the idea of "there is" and
the idea of "there is not." "There is something" is good; "there is
no—nothing" is also good. But "there is," at the same time, does not mean
there is noth- [partial word]—actually there is something. But even though
there is nothing for him, that is "there is." Even though "there is," you
know, for him that is—"there is not" sometime.

Anyway, every day is good day for him. "There is" or "there is not," he
doesn't care. "There is"—good. "There is" is good. And "there is not"—also
good. Every day is good day. When you, you know, understand exactly what
is "there is" and what is "there is not," then you have complete freedom
from everything, and you can appreciate things in its true sense.

When there is no wind, still something—some flower like camellia falls.
In the deep mountain, when you hear a bird, then you feel, all of a
sudden, you feel, "Oh, how quiet mountain it is." Every day is a good day.
Whatever happen to him, it is not just happening of something, or it is
not just nothing happened. "Nothing happened," you say, but many things is
happening. When something happens, you feel nothing. The feeling of
nothing is happening in the great universe, including sun and the moon and
bright stars you see in Tassajara valley. That you see many stars—actually
when you see many stars, you will feel the vast emptiness of the sky. You
are not just watching stars, but you are—you are feeling, actually, you
feel the vastness of the sky.

In short, if you are always involved in the life of "there is" or
"there is not," or enough or not enough, good or bad, right or wrong, you
don't feel anything in its true sense. But when your mind is very calm,
calm enough to see things which you do not actually see, when your mind is
calmness, even though you see many things, you see—you can appreciate the
vastness of the being covered by something you see. Then you can
appreciate things as it is. That is Ummon's "Every day is good day."
"Every day is good day."

I put more emphasis on intellectual, you know, interpretation of
our—intellectual interpretation of our framework of Buddhist teaching, but
more important thing is to have real feeling of practice.

Every day we practice zazen. In—in summer, morning zazen is good, very
good, but evening zazen is also good. It is little bit hot, but after, you
know, sitting, when you feel cool wind from outside, you may feel
indescribable, you know, feeling of practice. Night zazen in this time of
the year is supposed to be very hot because it is hot. But actual feeling
you have in zazen in such a warm days—hot days—you have indescribable good
feeling, which you cannot appreciate in spring or autumn. Coolness of
the—feeling of the coolness is something more than you think about. Even
though you know how good evening zazen is, but each time you sit you will
feel, "Oh, good." [Laughs.] Every time you sit, your feeling will be
refreshed because, I think, because it is hot. "It is hot" is not "it is
hot," actually.

In monastery we do not have so good food [laughs] usually, and at
Tassajara, as food is pretty strong and good, but not so, you know, not so
tasty or it is very plain, I think of [?]. If you chew it—when you chew
it—when you eat, you will feel real taste of the vegetables. If you cook
by sugar and with many—too much spices [laughs], you cannot appreciate
real taste of the food.

If the way of accepting things is simple, you can appreciate the things
more. So we say:

If you appreciate the real value of the absolute in food, you can
appreciate dharma food: Jiki ni oite tō naru mono wa, hō ni oitemo mata tō
nari. When your practice come to this stage, you are said to be a good
monk or a good student [laughs]. We say:

Chōjō wa chōhosshin;

tanjō wa tanhosshin.

Someone like Chuck is—is long buddha [laughs]. Someone like me is short
buddha. Chōjo wa chōhosshin, tanjo wa tanhosshin. Short or long, good or
bad, we say, we can appreciate things as it is, and we appreciate the
value of each being [thing?]. That is something what I referred to in
last—last lecture.

But so far, at Tassajara, we have been discussing, we have had
discussion after discussion [laughs]: discussing about, you know, food, or
rules, or many things—position. But why we did so is we cannot ignore idea
of good and bad, long and short, but more and more as our students grew
up, we can—we must be able to appreciate things as they are. Bamboo is
good, pine tree is good, oak tree is good, grass is good, darkness at
night is good [laughs], frog is good. Everything should be good. That is
"Every day is good day." And nothing is good—bare field [?] is good. Dark
vast sky is good. That is, you know, our actual feeling we should reach
[teach?].

Maybe next have question and answer if you have—for fifteen minutes or
so. Do you have some question? [Asides; laughter.] No question?

Student A (Dan Welch?): Rōshi, sometimes it seems easy to accept your
words. But you often tell us that words are pointing at the moon [?]. How
[3-4 words].

Suzuki-rōshi: What I say—

Student A: Sometimes it seems that we can accept quite easily what you
say. But maybe you don't live that long [?].

Suzuki-rōshi: Uh-huh. Yeah. Maybe so. [Laughs, laughter.]

Student A: But seriously, I don't know what to say—

Suzuki-rōshi: That is why I could [laughs, laughter]. Yeah—because I
say so, you accept it. When you say so, you die [?], you know. It means
that if you really, you know, if you really have that kind of feeling, you
know, it is al- [partial word: "always"?]— what I say is always true. But
because—actual practice—your actual practice is not always in—in that way.
Maybe it takes time, you know, to understand what I am saying.

But if my talk is end up in a kind of discussion, it doesn't make
sense. We can have discussion any time—but—discussion is good, but
discussion will not solve the problem completely. What I am talking right
now is something you cannot reach by your mind, thinking mind, but
something—it is something you can feel through practice—through real
practice.

What is real practice and what is not? The point is, when you
forget—when you can forget yourself, then you have real practice. When
your mind is always occupied by your small thinking mind or emotional mind
or feeling or concepts, you cannot have real practice. Do you have some
question—some more question? Hai.

Student B: [1-2 words] situation [2-3 words]. Today I was working [3-4
words], and a big fly was landing on my face. A fly. Sometimes I brushed
it off. And today I got angry [3-4 words]. And so I [12-16 words] ... so I
didn't feel bad. It was a good day, but it wasn't [4-6 words]. In that
kind of situation, maybe you have—give me some advice on what I could
[10-14 words] sometimes [4-6 words] at other times [4-6 words]. Sometimes
if I [4-6 words] it turns warm—very hot.

Suzuki-rōshi: When you are not patient, you know, when you become
impatient, as you feel [reply from student; laughs], you don't feel so
good. No—not always so. When you become impatient [laughs], of course you
may make face. How about, you know, painting? Drawing—make some drawing of
your impatient face on a paper, you know, when you have time. [Laughs,
laughter.] [Student probably makes a face or draws one. SR is reacting to
something with laughter.] Pretty good. May be very good Zen—Zen
picture—Zen painting—if you—if you do it—if you are able to do it. And if
you cannot do it, maybe Dan [Welch?] will do it [laughs]. Pretty good—not
so bad.

But that you—you do not like your impatient face, that was not so good.
If you are patient enough, you know, to work in the garden, then why don't
you do more—little bit more patient—a little bit. It is too soon to say
this is good or bad. This is "My practice is good or bad." You cannot say
so easily because your practice will continue, you know.

Suzuki-rōshi: Yeah, and because you say "dualistic," that is not so,
actually. When it is happening it is not so. After you, yeah, think about
it, you feel dualistic.

Student C: [1-2 sentences unclear.]

Suzuki-rōshi: After. Yeah, that is not so good [laughs]. That is not so
good. Your practice should continue and develop, you know, moment after
moment. Your firewood does not become ash. Ash is ash, and firewood is
firewood. And that you—hot—that you work in the garden, even though there
are many flies, even though sun is strong, that is your practice at that
time, and that practice actually extended to the practice of this evening:
our practice of shikantaza. That is why you have good feeling when you
appear in zendō with white tabi, with people, and recite, you know, sūtra
and make bow. You see? Your practice is going on and on and on.

Student C: When I started in the garden [?] this spring I
thought—if—if—if my understanding—I think I understand what you're saying.
However, for some reason my mind is blank about what the … of what
happened. Sometimes it—sometimes I feel bad about what happened. But
because I feel bad about what happened, I may be tongue-tied [?] and [1
word]—not to do bad, whatever that is.

Suzuki-rōshi: That is, you know, another practice, you know. To reflect
on what you do is quite different practice [than] you had before in—in the
garden. Refreshed practice. There is—of course there is some connection,
but you are not actually continuing same practice. Same practice but, you
know, renewed practice. Not same—not same but not different, we
say. So you should understand in that way.

You should think about it, but you shouldn't stick to it. Why you
shouldn't stick to it is it is renewed practice already, and that you feel
bad is good. Who feels bad about it? Not your small mind, which was
disturbed by flies, but it is by big mind—big mind thinks that was not
good. So you have your practice at that time, you know: practice of big
mind. When you are annoyed by, you know, by flies, that was small-minded
practice, but … [Sentence not finished. Tape turned over.]

We say, if you fell down by [on] the ground, you will stand up, you
know, by the ground. Do you understand? If you fell—if you, you know, lose
your practice because of the annoyance you have with flies, you will stand
up [by the] same annoyance. Because when you say "I was annoyed by flies
and that was not good practice," then already you stand—stood up, because
you have big mind already. Do you understand?

So it is okay, even [laughs] you don't have to be concerned about it so
much—about your bad practice so much. But to—to be concerned about it is
good, because it is a practice of big mind. So [loud mike noise] those
who—you cannot say this has [6-8 words unclear]. If you fell on the ground
you will stand up by the same old ground. If you say "My practice is not
good," [5-6 words], you are not standing already like this. So
that—because of this, you know, same old problem, you can stand up.

So if you enlighten with delusion—about delusion, you are enlightened
person, you know. If you are deluded as your enlightened mind, that is
delusion. Do you understand? If you say "My practice was not good," then
that is enlightenment. It is not problem of what you did is good or bad,
but problem of actual practice you have right now—actual mind you have
right now. If the actual mind you have right now is big mind, that is
enlightenment. Okay? You—you don't have to [be] concerned about what you
did before, but you have to [laughs] because you have to stand up. But
when you think that was wrong, that is already cleared up. You could cut
off the delusion you have. You have not delusion any more. You are not
deluded any more. Ahhh. Does it make sense? Okay? Hai.

Student D: If you're being bitten—

Suzuki-rōshi: Hmm?

Student D: If you're being bitten, say, by a fly or whatever it is, and
you smack that fly you just think that—you don't think about it—the fly is
on the ground dead [laughter]. [2 words] the way you are.

Suzuki-rōshi: Hmm?

Student D: Don't think about it. Go right on with whatever you're
doing. You don't inflict upon it the anguish of something [?]. [4-5
words.]

Suzuki-rōshi: Different?

Student D: You don't think about it any way at all.

Suzuki-rōshi: You will think—you will feel [in] some way, you
know. It is not possible not to feel—not to have any feeling about it. But
what kind of feeling you have is the point.

Student D: Well, when I—when I did this I didn't—[3-4 words]—whatever
it was just died, and afterwards I thought, well maybe it just died that
way [1-2 words] [laughter, comments by other students].

Suzuki-rōshi: Is it true with almost everyone? Do you agree [laughs]
with his way [?]?

Student E: Let's kill Alan. [Laughter.]

Suzuki-rōshi: Huh?

Student F: Suzuki-rōshi, what if we smack him and then stomp on him?
[Laughter.]

Suzuki-rōshi: What kind of reaction do you have? [Laughter.]

Student F: Like a blade of grass to become a buddha.

Suzuki-rōshi: Hmm?

Student F: Grass—blade of grass to become a buddha.

Suzuki-rōshi: Ohh. [Laughs.] Even though, you know, at last— This is
famous statement of Dōgen: Even though you do not like grass, grass will
grow quite easily. Even though you like flower, life will—flower
will fall [laughs]. That is actual reality. Even though it is so, if—if
some—you are stinged by—by mosquito or horse—horsefly, you know, you will
do this [gesturing?] [laughs]. You will do this, maybe. But when you are
involved in very serious practice, you wouldn't, you know. Even though
mosquito comes, you will be sitting, and until you—you may have many
mosquitoes, you know, like small [1-2 words] [laughs]—big [1-2
words]. They, you know, they will [3-4 words] sting us, but not only
sting, but also they suck blood, you know, from us. More and more they
will become like small, you know, fruits or something [laughs, laughter].
They cannot fly any more [laughs, laughter—maybe gesturing]. But you will
still—you will be still sitting. And then you have to be careful when
you—you stand up, not—not to step on mosquitoes [laughs].

So you feel calm to [1 word]. "Oh, he came." And as soon as he came
with his legs [1 word] and his—what do you call it—his pipe or something
[laughs, laughter]—needle [laughs]—

Student: Straw.

Suzuki-rōshi: Hmm?

Student: Straw.

Suzuki-rōshi: Straw. [Laughs, laughter.] —you—you feel his straw, you
know, coming. Straw. Mouth. Straw. First, you know, legs; next straw; and
straw, you know, [laughs] come in and come out like this [probably
gestures], and while they are continue this for several moments, they stop
and start to suck, until they become like this [probably gestures]. And
they cannot fly because they are so heavy.

So you don't—when your practice is completely involved in bad [?]—big
mind, you don't care. But, you know, but usually, for an instance, when a
bug or big horsefly come [slaps self], I will—I will do [?] like this. But
what I feel is different. But whatever feeling I have, if something has
happened already, you know, you cannot do anything. Even though it was
bad—it is not okay, but [laughs] we cannot do anything about it, so you
have to think on it [?]—you have—you were—how do you say?—you have
to make reflection.

How you feel is the point. If you feel bad, that is good. And it is not
always possible—it is not impossible not to feel good or bad if you—unless
you make some excuse. But to—to make some excuse is very small
mind. So don't make any excuse. Don't try to make any excuse [for] what
you have done. If it is wrong, "I am sorry." If it is good, then you will
say "maybe so," but you shouldn't feel completely satisfied with your
practice. You should go on and on. Hai.

Student G: What about if you know it's wrong and you do it anyway?

Suzuki-rōshi: Huh?

Student G: What about if you know it's wrong and you do it anyway?

Suzuki-rōshi: When you do it anyway?

Student G: Yeah. You did so in a way that you know it in a minute [?].

Suzuki-rōshi: Uh-huh.

Student G: But you—

Suzuki-rōshi: You did it anyway.

Student G: —you do it anyway.

Suzuki-rōshi: Uh-huh. Do you mean you did it because you have to—had
to?

Student G: I don't live in [1-2 words.]

Suzuki-rōshi: Anyway, it is very—very difficult to understand exactly.
Without thinking, do you mean? Anyway—

Student G: No, with thinking.

Suzuki-rōshi: Hmm?

Student G: —with thinking.

Suzuki-rōshi: With thinking—

Student G: Yes.

Suzuki-rōshi: —and not completely. "Anyway, I will do it." That is not
so serious. That is, I don't think, serious if—not serious now. In your
practice, yeah, we shouldn't do things just anyway, you know. "Okay, I
will do it anyway." Sometime it is good, you know. Without giving
responsibility of doing to some—somebody, taking resp— [partial word]—the
responsibility of doing to—for yourself. "I will do it anyway," you know.
You don't have to say this way or that way. If it is bad, "that is my, you
know, fault"; if it is good, you know, "because you helped me, I did it."
"But anyway I did it." This kind of "anyway" is very good [?]. "But I
don't know what we should do. Anyway I will do it"—that is not so good
[?]. But when you—you are in some situation where you should do
something, you know, then you will do it anyway. "Whether it is good or
bad, someone must do it. So anyway I will do it." That is also "anyway."
"I don't know what will happen to—to us, but anyway I will go and find
out." That is also "anyway." There must be many "anyways." [Laughs,
laughter.]

As you are mostly young, so I think you—your practice should not be old
man's practice. You should be confront with problem—problems you have, you
know, for you.

Do you have some questions, some more question? One more please. Hai.

Student H: [6-10 sentences unclear.]

Suzuki-rōshi: Hmm. Actually, you know, that is not—cannot be, you know,
serious question [laughs]. You know, you know, the answer already,
perhaps, but you don't know what to do. That is why you ask me, isn't that
so? You know, you know.

Student H: Well, I know—I know that I [1-2 sentences unclear], but I
[rest of sentence unclear].

Suzuki-rōshi: I—I maybe—I have some good answer? [Laughs, laughter.]
No, I am sorry I haven't [laughs]. I don't have so good answer for that.
But my answer will be, you know, if it's good chance for you to have that
kind of problem. You know, because of that kind of problem, we can
practice our way. It is good to have some problem. If it, you
know—this—this is too much to say, but if we are cats or dog we have no
problem, so we don't have to practice [laughs] [1 word]. We are happy in
our problem. So that is not problem just for you. Everyone has same
problems, actually. So as—as long as you are—you live in this land of
Shākyamuni Buddha you have that problem—or [living in the] human
world, you have that problem.

In Buddhist traditionally [?], land of—this world is Nansenbushū,

the south side of the Mount Sumeru. On the opposite side there is
Hokkuroshū, where there is no problem [laughs]. There is enough water to
drink, and no cold and similar things, and enough juice [?] and various
foods you enjoy; there is no problem. People [live] long time—people do
not die. If you are born in that kind of place, you know, you have more
pleasure, and we have no Buddhism or no practice. That is very, you know—
But it suggest some truth.

So your question is based on the idea of understanding of our life. "If
our life is full of happiness and joy, that is good life; if our life is
full of suffering and problem, that is not good life." That is a very
superficial understanding of life. And most people—people's view of life
is based on that kind of idea of good or bad, which is not deep enough,
which is not real enough.

So when you have that kind of problem, you should think of, you know,
why you have—when you have problem [?], you know, when you are able to
think about it. When you are angry you cannot think, of course. But when
you are not—when your mind is calm, you should think about the foundation
of your—of your view of life—understanding of life. And it is good to
listen to some teaching like Buddhism. We do not talk about sin, but we
talk about suffering and problem of life. And it is not possible to
leave—to get out of suffering and to, you know, to have life of no
problem, according to our understanding of—of human life.

Thank you very much.

——————————————————

Source: City Center transcript by Barry Eisenberg. Entered onto disk by
Jose Escobar, 1997. Checked against tape by Bill Redican, 9/25/00.
Miyagawa Keishi-san kindly provided assistance with the translation of
Japanese terms, particularly the verses on Pages 1 and 3–4.